Admissions from "no-nonsense Dawg"

No-nonsense Dawg is one of my favorite nicknames T has bequeathed to me over the years. He loves N-nD because it signifies that I have moved into a snappy, sassy mood full of snarky honesty, none of which is directed at him. Or if it is, it's lovingly true like "did you look in any of the tupperware you blind-husband-syndrome varmint? The X is in there!" N-nD is decidedly who I am today. That's probably gilding the lily of my actual mood, but I'm trying to stay positive here. In fact, I am in a peevish mood. I am over, in all ways, being any form of ailing gal. It really makes my blood boil that several measly errands yesterday made me tired. I mean, the red bra purchase was worth it, but seriously. I had to spend extra time puzzling this morning to make up for it. Which brings me to:

Admission #1: your mother is usually right. I called my mom yesterday after the bra find, and she said "you better watch it, you really should respect the pneumonia" or some such bit of advice. Puh-shaw, I can definitely make it to one more store. And I did and then I had to come home.

So, listen to your mothers. You can puh-shaw them under your breath, but it's generally wise to listen and do as they say.

Admission #2: I just don't love my dog. There, I've said it clearly, no beating around the bush -N-nD does not mince words- and I'll say it again for good measure. I don't love Percy. I like him fine, but I wish he were the sort of dog who was content to lay at my feet rather than attempting to become my shawl. I could literally disown him each and every time I find anger-pee downstairs, as I did this morning as I entered The Land of the Puzzle. Yep, a big puddle on the bottom level of our coffee table. No, he is not diabetic, nor does he have any disease, incontinence or other potentially excusable condition.

Admission #3: I do not like mussels or scallops. I don't, never have and likely never will. That awful (offal- hah! pun!) black plug in their bodies just sends me over the edge. I can't do it, don't want to. And scallops? They are phlegm wads, plain and simple.

Admission #4: I like the word foodie. It doesn't make me think, "what a pretentious ass" when I hear someone use it or self-identify as such. I call myself a foodie, with pride. I also like the word veggie. So there.

Do I dare?

I take it as definite improvement that the thought of a glass of wine sounds lovely rather than vomitous. Since I'm puzzling through wine country, it seems fitting to consider having a glass. And hey, Royal Boy was born today! Finally! Do y'all know what Jack did this evening that definitely falls under the It's Always Something rubric? He took a shower with the curtain wide open AND removed the showerhead (one of those nozzle on a hose things) to do so. Whatever amount of water you think was flooding the bathroom, double it. OhMyGod.

Unfortunately, I took my "feeling definitely improved self" on a few too many errands this afternoon and have now crashed. Grr! So, it'll be an easy grilled pizza tonight and then an early bedtime.

BlogHer '13 in T minus just under 3 days! Make your way out pneumonia, make your way out.

Stop the presses: This is NEWS

Sorry to light your pants on fire, but I made dinner and dessert tonight and do believe that constitutes a news flash. The day started in a sub-par way when I went to the farmers market and came home as tired as if I'd just climbed to the Empire State Building's second observation deck, singing and poo-poohing the elevator all the way up. I felt utterly pathetic and sank into just a bit of despair during which time I started puzzling Wine Country on my trusty card table. A greater sense of self-pity ensued, and then after I'd asked the boys seven times each to stop climbing up the back of my couch -the one Percy marks and Nutmeg kneads his nails on, so really why do I care at this point, but I do because even though they act like animals sometimes, the boys are actually humans who must/will learn proper behavior- I just dissolved into a fit of tears (not helpful in the congestion department), sent them upstairs and wallowed over a Riesling bottle whose color rendering really did not translate accurately between the box cover and the pieces.

I did manage to pull it all together, enjoyed a conference call with my writing group, bathed Ol, read him Polite as a Princess -again; curiously, he can recite the entire book and regularly applauds the princesses for their unparalleled Emily Post-like etiquette but he seems less enthused about incorporating these lovely ladies' suggestions into his own behavior. Alas.

Then I decided that come hell or high water, I would make my husband dinner. Fresh pesto with basil from this morning's market + sungold tomatoes + homemade ricotta + this fabulous perciatelli. It needed salt but after a generous addition of it was wonderful. I also made Amanda Hesser's plum tart which is so good it renders me speechless every time I make it, which is often. Last summer, I think I baked this about 87 times. Tonight, I didn't have enough plums so interlaced those I did have with fresh apricots. Gorgeous, yes?!?!?!